The Learning Times
by Nimbus 1944
Summary: The last mystery anyone expected at Hogwarts was the patter of little feet. Accompanied with songs to the HP music of John Williams.
1. Default Chapter

Songs are written to the HP music of **John Williams**. In the _Songs of the Hogwarts Express_ in Chapter 1 , _Ten Good Tonnes of Coal _is set to _Dobby the House Elf,_ CD2 track 09, 0:00-1:14, but slightly faster, and_ Ferroequinautics_ to_ Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, _CD1 track 06, 0:00-0:17. In Chapter 2, _Prestidigitation_ is set to _Mr. Longbottom Flies (Nimbus 2000),_ CD1 track 19, 1:47-3:45. In Chapter 5, _The Sky Chorale (Like a Symphony, Rising) _is set to _Fawkes the Phoenix, _CD2 track 02 in its entirety. Fortunately for the 2-line storm sequence in the last song, the Bulwer-Lytton Awards don't have a lyrics category.

Original story material and lyrics are the property of the fanfic author; other material of Rowling et al. falls under the usual disclaimer. The author salutes the _Connecticut Society of Ferroequinologists_, whose clever club name inspired the coined word used here.

****

1. Like A Feather.

Hogwarts, Saturday, September 6, Third Year.

Ron Weasley was not in the best humour at the moment. "It's gonna be our great singing debut, huh? And I get lines like _'We is now the crew'_."

Harry tossed a lump of coal up and down. "Don't complain. I've got the 'feather' lines... and this silly prop. I don't need a prop; the audience can't see us. 'It's to get you in the mood,' she says. All it's doing is getting my pockets dirty."

"Well, don't put it in a different pocket each time, you prat!"

Harry smiled. "Oh, eat coal."

"You first, oh great one. Ginny tried her poetry on you last year, and you didn't warn us. What was that frog line?"

"Don't remind me," said Harry, cringing at the thought of Ginny's valentine. "She compared the colour of my eyes to a 'fresh pickled toad'."

"Classical British poetry, that. Just think, Harry; someday you'll be famous -- once you actually do something -- and I'll mention the fresh-pickled toad when I write your intimate biography, _Harry Potter: A Short Story_. So then they'll include a fresh-pickled-toad song in _Harry Potter: The Musical_, and they'll have you skating with a fresh-pickled toad in _Harry Potter On Ice_. Yeah, inspired British poetry, right up there with Shearspake."

"That's Shakespeare."

"Eat your coal before it gets cold. Where is our fearless director, anyway?"

"Maybe she got an owl from Pinewood with a job offer," suggested Seamus.

"Oh good," said Ron. "My sister, the big director! Hope she'll make enough to support all her brothers -- right, Ginny?"

"Support yourself, big brother," said a smiling Ginny, faking a slap at Ron as she entered. "Sorry I'm late, I was just checking the girls' chorus on their other number. Are you all ready to give it a go?"

A chorus of one "Sure," one "No", one "Are you kidding?", one "Never" and two toots on a flute were her answer.

"Good," said Ginny anyway. "Remember, we only have a few more days to practice, then we're on. I know you'll all be great."

Justin, on the flute, sounded a few discordant notes. The chorus -- Ron, Harry, Dean and Seamus -- laughed.

Ginny was undeterred. "Okay. Wizarding Wireless Network Sunday Programme, Hogwarts Special; the fabulous Third Year Boys' Chorus flawlessy performs the _Songs of the Hogwarts Express!_..... uh, Take 1. Flutes?"

Justin and Terry tootled the intro, and Seamus the Driver launched his three trainee Firemen into their rousing work song, reading from their scripts:

**

DRIVER
Rise and shine, my crew;
I have work for you!
Hearty shoveling meets our goal:
Ten good tonnes of .. coal!

1st FIREMAN
It's the only proper thing for us to do!

2nd FIREMAN
It's expected, seeing we is now the crew!

3rd FIREMAN (hefting a lump of coal)
Like a feather, only more than one or two!

1st FIREMAN
Only proper!

2nd FIREMAN
It's expected!

3rd FIREMAN
Like a feather!

DRIVER
All together!

ALL
Hogwarts waits for us;
Better than the bus!
Hearty shoveling makes us roll,
Ten good tonnes of .. coal!
_

DRIVER
Traveling by horses made from iron -- that needs a name,
The word is Ferroequinautics in the railway game!
Shovel coal and burn it to heat water into steam,
Which keeps the Ferroequinautics engine on the beam!

1st FIREMAN
Magic moves a broom, but that's where magic is the rule,
So here it's Ferroequinautics for the trip to school!

2nd FIREMAN
Objects levitate, but they ride on a magic track,
So here it's Ferroequinautics to go there and back!

3rd FIREMAN
Quidditch players fly, but they are quite the magic mob,
So here it's Ferroequinautics that will do the job!

DRIVER
Make a wicked potion, but that can't make engines run,
So we need Ferroequinautics power, by the tonne!

ALL
Traveling by horses made from iron --- that needs a name,
The word is Ferroequinautics in the railway game!

_ 1st FIREMANOnly proper that we get it underway! 

2nd FIREMAN
We're protected from the wind in here, he say!

3rd FIREMAN
Like a feather, float to Hogwarts in a day!

1st FIREMAN
Only proper!

2nd FIREMAN
We're protected!

3rd FIREMAN
Like a feather!

DRIVER
All together!

ALL
Stoke the fire with pride --
Magic children ride!
Hearty shoveling warms the soul,
Ten good tonnes of .. coal!

Stoke the fire with pride --
Magic children ride!
Hearty shoveling warms the soul,
Ten good tonnes of ....
Ten good tonnes of ....
Coal!
**

Ginny applauded. "You've got it perfectly, right off! That was so great!"

"We've been practising," said Justin. "We know it means a lot to you, Ginny, so we're going to do it up proper, until show time ..."

"....and _then_," added Seamus, "we're all going to perform out of tune and flub our lines." The chorus snickered and snorted.

"Oh, no you shan't! Don't make me hex you into doing it right."

"Oh, please don't hex us, oh great evil sister witch!" mugged 2nd Fireman, going on his knees. "If your magic is as good as your songs, you'll turn us all into toads!"

"Yes, and you'll be first, big brother! No, really, it was great, and .... who was that?"

The boys looked around. "Who was who?" asked Dean.

"Well, she's gone now. Someone at the doorway. She was..... short -- barely up to the lock, and she wore a long dress. At first I thought she was a house-elf, but she didn't look like an elf." 

"Flitwick?"

"In a dress? Hardly, Ron."

"Then it had to be a house-elf, Ginny. Nobody else is that short... well, Harry's here, so he's accounted for."

"I heard that, Weasley," said Harry.

Ginny chuckled. "Well.... then I don't know what I saw. But anyway. The girls' chorus is still practicing the magic song, and Harry has a Quidditch meeting, right? So they'll be ready early this afternoon to try it out, if you're all available about 12:30."

The boys looked at each other, with some shrugging, and all nodded.

"Good!" said Ginny in anticipation. "If we finish quickly, you'll still have time to visit Hogsmeade. See you here then."

****


	2. 2 Where magic is the rule

****

2. Where Magic Is The Rule.

What a busy day! With no time left to walk, Harry left the Quidditch team meeting by air. Less than a minute later, he dropped into the courtyard and set down gently, propped his Nimbus 2000 against a stone column and hurried into the Transfig room for the afternoon chorus practice.

The desks were all askew with the boys' chorus in a semicircle of desks at front left, musicians at the back, girls' chorus at right middle and soloists at front right. Harry, the 2nd Solo in this gathering, wended his way through the mess to the front.

"Hope I'm not too late," he said to Ron. "Wood was running on about defensive moves."

Ron snickered. "You can't be late, Harry. Ginny would never start without her heart-throb."

"Oh, eat coal," smirked Harry.

"Ginny rules here, oh great one. With all this empowerment, she'll be another Percy in no time. Catch a rising star, Harry!"

Harry took out his coal. "Would you prefer one lump or two?"

Back in the music section, Ginny tapped her wand on a chime, and gestured everyone to shush and sit down.

"Okay. So now, the Third Year combined Boys and Girls Choruses perform _Prestidigitation_. Our 3rd Solo voice, whose wand was held together by Spellotape last year, can certainly appreciate a song on the fine art of getting his charms right."

"That's my little sister rubbing it in, folks," said Ron, smiling. He was glad he could laugh about it now. It wasn't funny last year....well, to him and Lockhart, anyway; everyone else thought it was riotous.

"And.. music!"

The two fiddles and base viola started it off, and Parvati led the singing:

**

1ST SOLO
Talents are a feature, but it's not all of you;
It's not what you have, it's all what you do!
Doing what you do is how your soul will be seen,
So do it with flair and be keen! 

2ND SOLO
Magic is an art that we apply by the rule,
As urged in the home, as taught in the school;
Prestidigitation is perfecting the art,
So learn it with care and be smart! 

3RD SOLO
Misdirected magic is a sure path to doom,
a highway to grief, a short road to gloom;
Prestidigitation is the much better way,
So mind what you do each new day!
**

Ginny directed the strings with her wand, building toward the crescendo; "Wind it up, wind it up.... and... let 'er rip!"

**

ALL__
Prestidigitation is a flick of a hand,
the wave of a wand, the vocal demand;
It's a perfect chorus of the arts of the mind,
A talent of few in mankind!

1ST SOLO
No abra-cadabra can do what we do
with mind-boggling, knee-weakening flair! 

2ND SOLO
No hocus or pocus can ever ensue
without such care!

ALL
_Let your magic lead the way!_

3RD SOLO
Let your magic lead the way!

ALL
_Prestidigitation is a flick of a hand,_
the wave of a wand, the vocal demand;
It's a perfect chorus of the arts of the mind,
A talent of few in mankind!

1ST SOLO
No mumbo or jumbo can open a door
with mind-baffling, eye-opening ease! 

2ND SOLO
No presto or chango accomplishes more
than just a tease!

ALL
_Mind your magic!_

3RD SOLO
Mind your magic!
**

"Wind it up, last chorus.... and let 'er rip!"

**

ALL__
Prestidigitation is a flick of a hand,
the wave of a wand, the vocal demand;
It's a perfect chorus of the arts of the mind,
A talent of few in mankind!
**

"Wind it up for the ending..... and wrap it!" The room echoed with the last thundering note. It was tremendously satisfying, and drew applause not only from the performers, but a very impressed Ginny as well.

And applause from the doorway.

Harry and several others turned, but they only had a moment to see the four short figures outside before they stopped clapping and took off. 

Ginny did a zigzag dash through the confusion of desks and milling performers. By the time she got to the doorway, with other curious folk following, the little ones were gone from the corridor ringing the inner courtyard. "Where do they go?" she asked no one in particular.

"Those little ones?" asked Parvati. "Whatever they are, they've been all over the grounds today. We'd probably have even more witnesses if the lot weren't in Hogsmeade." 

"Maybe we can't disapparate here," reminded Terry, "but house-elves can. They do some vanishing trick, I know."

Harry agreed. "I saw Dobby snap his fingers and wisp away here. But those four didn't look like house-elves -- or goblins."

"Do you suppose," said Ron, "we've got some new, really short ghosts?"

"Or, Hermione suggested, "Hogwarts has suddenly lowered the school age to 5." 

"Or McGonagall's Transfig mistakes have finally escaped from their locked room in the tower!" laughed Seamus.

"Whatever they are, they might have _flown_ away from here," said Padma. "You could probably get all four of those little things on a full-sized broom."

Harry suddenly had a horrible thought, and moved through the crowd in the doorway.

With one glance around, his worst fears were quickly realized.

"My Nimbus 2000!" he wailed. 

* * *

Harry and several volunteers searched the courtyard, corridors and empty classrooms before reaching the dire conclusion: his precious broom was gone. 

For Harry, it was like a toddler losing his security blanket. "Who _are_ these little critters, and what did they do with my broom?"

* * *

Hermione wished she and Ron could buy the gloomy Harry a butterbeer in Hogsmeade, but Harry didn't have permission to visit town. The best they could do was sit with him at the school gate for a few minutes, commiserating. If he would only stop grumbling! 

Ron was trying to distract Harry with his usual reverse psychology. "Well, Harry, we might have to replace you. It all depends. If the critter can fly your broom better, Wood will insist on signing it up as the new Seeker! But don't feel bad. You can sit in the stands with us common folk, and shout insults at Malfoy." 

"If it's all the same," said Harry, "I'd rather be flying."

"Or you could swap places with the critter. Ever wanted to be a gnome?"

"Is this going to be another 'short' joke, Ron?"

"Accept your shortness, Harry. We do."

"I'm not short. You're just.... taller."

"Then let's go see Filch. If he still has chains, maybe he has a rack, and we can get you stretched to normal height."

"I _am_ normal height, thank you very much. We need to shrink _you_. Know any good shrinking spells, Hermione?"

Hermione snickered. "I wouldn't shrink anything about you two at all. You're both just the right height. But I'm dying to know who these little ones are....people, or beasts, or whatever."

"I heard about another sighting," said Neville, who was passing through the gate, headed to town. "This morning, when Angelina Johnson was flying to Quidditch, she saw five of 'em at once, but they ran into the tall brush before she could come any closer." 

Lavender added her own report as she entered. "You mean the little ones? I just saw one on my way back; it was heading up that hill to the cliff off the school road."

"If that's so," said Harry, "I'm going to the cliff right now. Anyone else?"

Hermione was dubious. "Harry, that's all brambles and vines. You'd do better to borrow a school broom, and fly over it."

"If this critter can walk up to the cliff, so can I. Nobody has seen them fly yet. I'm guessing they're on the ground."

"Well... call out if you see anything. We'll be walking past there to Hogsmeade. Good luck...and be careful."

* * *

The hill was only a few minutes away as the wizard runs. Harry had to leave his wool jumper on a tree branch by the road; it would never survive the thorns and prickly bushes. He zigzagged up the slope, pushing past the sharp, bristly vines growing across the narrow path. He was moving as fast as he could, hoping to catch the little whatever-it-is soon, but compared to walking on the road, it was sheer torture. Going back down would be just as bad, unless he was lucky enough to find his broom with this critter.

He heard movement ahead, and ducked behind a barberry bush.

Sure enough, a little one had just reached the clearing at the top. He saw a mop of long dark hair, and a belted robe or long dress. He decided the whatzis was a girl whatzis, and a tiny one at that, but it didn't have an elf's ears, or a goblin's nose, or any peculiar characteristic that he could identify it with.

Then he saw one thing that definitely interested him.

It was much taller than she was. It was thin, and brown, and said _Nimbus 2000_ on the end. 

Harry yelled at her. "Oy! That's my broom!"

The tiny one, startled, clutched the broom tightly....

.... and leapt off the cliff.

"No!" cried Harry.

It almost seemed to Harry like the broom wanted to dangle in the air for a moment, with its tip sharply upward. Its little rider was struggling to hang on. She spiraled around the broomstick, lost her grip and fell off sideways, dropping out of sight. Her scream could not have lasted two seconds, but to Harry it was an eternity. Then came a very noisy crash. 

The riderless broom bounced on a rock at the cliff edge, then followed her to the bottom.


	3. 3 A talent of few

****

3. A Talent Of Few.

Harry was frightened to think what he would find below. 

Avoiding the rocky 70-foot drop, he went off to one side and stumbled and slid from one bush to another down the slope. It was taking too long to get there!

As the sunny glare of the leaf-dust cloud finally settled, he looked down. The little one had crashed through trees, breaking more than a few branches as she fell, and landed on a brush-covered rocky mound. She was outwardly all in one piece, but scratched, bruised and muddied -- and moving slowly, obviously in pain. 

When she saw Harry descending, the little one began crawling toward the downed broom. 

Harry came to the bottom, went to her, caught her shoulder and sat her down.

"You!" shouted Harry. "Who are you?"

"My name is Charlotte, and..."

"You took my broom!"

"I'm sorry!" She started crying. "I only wanted to help my friends!" She turned very red and bawled loudly, looking about helplessly, like a lost baby pining for its mum.

As she wailed, Harry realized how terrifying he must seem. He opened his handkerchief and handed it to the little one. "Look, I'm sorry, too. I'm really sorry for yelling at you. Please, don't cry. Are you hurt?"

She pulled away from him, still sniffling and crying. "No!" she said, but she was holding her sides.

"Why do your friends need help?"

"Because," she sobbed, "they went into the tall trees, and they hain't come out yet."

"They went in the DARK FOREST? ALONE?"

"I'm sorry!" she said again, and resumed her crying.

Harry, you git, stop yelling, he told himself, _be nice! _"No, no, it's okay, it's not your fault, Charlotte, I'm sorry; it's okay. Why did they leave you out here?"

"They ha' bicycles, and I dun't. That's why I borrowed yer broom. I was gonna bring it back."

Bicycles? Now it all made sense to Harry.

Ron showed up, half out of breath, with Hermione not far behind, running on a path around the cliff. "We heard a scream, and someone crying," he said.

"It's the thing to do when you've just been born," answered a distracted Harry.

A panting Hermione arrived, thoughtfully carrying Harry's jumper. "Harry! Did you figure them out?" 

"Yes. You too?" replied Harry, wiping Charlotte's face and draping the jumper over her shoulders.

"Well, would someone tip _me,_ then?" asked Ron. "Is it a midget, a leprechaun, a space alien, what?"

"Oh, much scarier, Ron!" said Hermione. "Couldn't you tell from the cry? Hogwarts has been invaded by.... rug-rats."

"Wha'..... plain ordinary kids, y'mean? I thought the Muggles can't even see this place!"

"Earth calling Ron," said Hermione. "Muggles can have magical children... like me, for instance?? They probably come from farms near Bumpus."

"Oh!" exclaimed Ron. "So that's how they ......and they just wandered in to play, and nobody knows?"

Harry interrupted. "Listen, we have a problem. The four other kids went into the Dark Forest on bicycles, and haven't come out. Charlotte, here, is worried for them. We've got to get them out, and we can't ask the Muggles for help."

"Wonderful," said Ron. "We'll need lots more searchers, and for sure we'll have to do it on brooms. They could have wandered for miles in there!"

"Too right," said Harry. "No telling what they've met by now, and it's already 2 PM.... we're going to lose the sun. Listen, I'll shuttle you all to Hogwarts, Charlotte first. But you two start out now, and let Hogsmeade know. Fetch anyone on anything that flies!" 


	4. 4 Magic children ride

****

4. Magic Children Ride.

Ron and Hermione took off on the run for Hogsmeade. 

Harry found his Nimbus 2000 to be in fine shape. He turned to the girl. "Charlotte, my name is Harry. Are you ready to take a proper broomstick ride?"

She rubbed her eyes and looked up at him. "Och-aye -- if you'll find my friends for me?"

"We'll do our best, kiddo. We'll find them. Sit in front of me, grab the broom tight and proper, and I'll be holding you on too, okay?"

"I won't fall again, Mr. Hairy?"

"No, I shan't let you fall....that's good, and hang on...here we go!"

Harry had hardly reached around her to grab the broom when it practically leapt off the ground, and started weaving wildly, pointing toward the clouds at a steep angle of attack, as it had before.

"Uh, Charlotte? Don't think about the flying, please. Let me do the flying for you this time, okay? I'll show you how it's done soon, I promise."

"Och-aye," she said casually, and the broom calmed down, the tip settling toward the horizon. Harry was amazed; Charlotte was young and untrained, yet she had a strong natural-born broom command! 

Harry turned toward Hogwarts, and they dashed across the brush-covered hills. In only a minute, he had landed at the hospital wing and left the girl with Madam Pomfrey. He spread the call for searchers, then dashed to town.

One by one, Harry picked up Hermione and Ron at Hogsmeade, where shopkeepers and farmers were already taking to their brooms.

"It's as we thought, Hermione," said Harry enroute to the school, yelling over the breeze. "I asked Charlotte how the other four seemed to vanish from the courtyard after she ran off with the broom."

"And how did she explain it?"

"She said they _jumped to the roof_. I did that once at school, before I knew I was a wizard. They're from two Muggle farm families in the valley-- two boys and three girls, all of them magical." 

In those few minutes, word had traveled through Hogwarts as well. Madam Hooch was airborne, followed by McGonagall and other staff. More than a few Quidditch players were just lifting off -- even Karen Bletchley, of Slytherin's team. Hagrid was heading into the woods on the run, with a crossbow and a quiver of arrows. 

Someone had wisely alerted the denizens of the owlery. Dozens of assorted owls burst from the open windows, Hedwig among them, all winging toward the Dark Forest to search and to carry messages. 

As he dropped off Hermione, over his shoulder Harry noted students were pouring out of school, even those unqualified to fly, just to watch the massive event underway. Amidst the crowd, he spotted Dumbledore, and flew to him. "Professor!" cried Harry. "You heard it all?"

"Yes, Harry," nodded a grim Dumbledore. "Godspeed. If the children aren't home by dusk, the Muggles may come looking, enchantments or not. You'll find them safe, I hope, but be careful."

"I hope so too, sir. Sorry we have to break the Dark Forest rule." Harry had to check the busy airspace around him for other brooms and owls before turning and darting away toward the afternoon darkness of the old-growth forest, with its legendary evil snares of many kinds.

* * *

The flyers circled the forest, getting their courage up before entering it from many sides. They were engulfed by the dank and threatening gloom, but no one turned back. Right off it was obvious they would not be able to search the huge, entangled mess in an hour or two. Charlotte McGee had provided the names of the four Mulholland children, and the searchers called them out: _Alex! James! Georgina! Samantha! _

There were no answers.

It was a difficult search, with what little light penetrated to the forest floor. Some of the forest actually brightened as the sun descended below the thick tree canopy in mid-afternoon. That was deceptive, because in the mountainous country, that meant forest sunset would be in an hour or less. Soon, the darkness and cold of an Autumn night would set in.

In a Sonorus relayed around the forest from the school side, word came that the four bicycles had been found, about two miles in from Hogsmeade. The beginner flyers were despatched to carry them to town, to save time later. Still no children had turned up. 

An owl came to McGonagall with a note from Hagrid. He had met the centaurs, and they had seen nothing; he was off to speak to Aragog, leader of the spiders. 

The sunlight was almost gone when there was a loud, persistant squawking from an owl off to Harry's left, then a flurry of activity around it. Alex and James had been found!

Harry darted there immediately. The boys were scared but well. They had been hiding under leafy branches by the edge of the Great Bog.

Alex, the oldest at 9, related how the four of them had followed an odd sound, like someone calling out names. They continued on foot where the bicycles could not be used off the trail.

In no time at all, they were lost. Then the source of the alluring sound had appeared: an odd creature, their size, intent on attack! The boys said they had waved sticks to scare it away, but that did little to stop its ferocity. 

The creature ran at them first, then at the girls, herding them farther and farther apart until they couldn't see the terrified girls any more. At its next approach, Alex managed to hurl a good-sized rock and injure the creature; it wandered off aimlessly, out of sight. 

They had called out to the girls right off -- but there was no answer.

The boys had been in hiding ever since, fearing all the strange sounds and cries they heard, thinking it was the creature's friends. It had been especially terrifying when a myriad of echoing voices from high off the ground began calling them by name... _Alex! James! Georgina! Samantha! _

James and Alex were evacuated to Madam Pomfrey for a checkover before taking them to Hogsmeade to await further developments. 

Harry and the searchers spread out around the discovery spot and carefully examined everything, from the ground to above the treetops, for any sign. 

Angelina Johnson was the next to get lucky. "Found a wounded beast! Over here!" 

McGonagall and others dashed to the new find. It was curled up and quietly moaning from its injury, but the pointy head identified it right off. "That would be our violent creature, all right," said McGonagall. "It's an erkling, fully grown and quite dangerous. Most unusual to find one off the continent, but not unheard of. It's carniverous; they're very fortunate the boy injured it."

"Could its friends have taken the girls, Professor?" asked Angelina.

"Erklings usually hunt alone, with large roaming territories. No, I think something else has happened to the girls. Keep looking for clues." She mercifully immobilized the creature, and sent an owl for Hagrid to come for the erkling when he could. She then called out another sonorus, telling all the searchers to shout just the girls' names, and tell them the boys were okay.

Where the girls' paths seemed to end nearby, the searchers found spoor: hoof prints. But the centaurs had said they didn't have the girls..... ? 

As the light dimmed to almost nothing, another owl arrived from Hagrid with a note. 

McGonagall read it by wand-light, then muttered something in Latin that Harry didn't recognize from class. Her tirade seemed to go on at length and had a lot of sputtery consonants in it. He thought she might be swearing, but he said nothing.

Once more, she put out a Sonorus. "All searchers! Return to the school immediately, and assemble in the field near the gamekeeper's hut. Spread the word, and bring all the searchers and owls near you out of the forest." Then a Quietus, and more Latin under her breath, and something about "That man!"

"Did Hagrid find them?" asked Harry. "Are they all right?"

"You know him, Harry," she said. "Hagrid's a good-hearted man, but I could scream some times. All he said was, recall all the searchers and wait for him by his house. That's all he wrote, if you please, not a syllable more. That _infuriating_ man!" 

* * *

"So far, so good, Potter," reported Pomfrey, as she released Alex and James for transport to Hogsmeade. "The boys are fine. I treated the girl for bruised ribs, one fractured elbow, a skinned knee and a lot of other abrasions; those branches must have broken her fall, the lucky little thing." Harry was relieved at this review, and set out for Hagrid's hut. 

It was like a candlelight vigil; hundreds of charms and a few torches lit the field as Harry circled. Here, outside the woods, the twilight sky was still bright enough, and he soon spotted Hermione, his dorm mates and a few other Gryffindors gathered near the front door of the hut, and he landed near them. They were sharing their experiences in the forest, so Harry told them all he knew. Everyone waited for Hagrid, dreading the possibilities.

Then, shadowy figures strode from the edge of the woods.

So that's what the hoofprints were! thought Harry. 

The whole field of searchers and onlookers gaped.

It was Hagrid, and to either side of him were Georgina and Samantha -- tired but smiling, astride silvery young unicorns. 

* * *

Hagrid and Angelina took a lantern and went for the injured erkling.

Meanwhile, the girls were quickly checked for injuries and reunited with the others at Hogsmeade. They were returned to their respective homes -- and none too soon, as the parents were about to rouse a search.

Accompanying the children were McGonagall and Lupin in plain clothing, asking to speak with the parents without the prying ears of farmhands and neighbours.

The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things.... 

That evening, Mr. and Mrs. Mulholland learned an amazing thing about all four of their young'uns, while the McGees similarly heard about Charlotte. They took it surprisingly well. But then, the people in northern and western Britain who work the soil have always been closer to the legends of the _middangeard _of magical beings that live among us all. 

****


	5. 5 Like a symphony, rising

****

Epilogue: Like A Symphony, Rising.

"**D**o y'mind," said Charlotte's mum, "when ordinary folks call a pretty girl like yerself a 'witch'?"

Hermione smiled. After their families had farmed in Bumpus for four generations, the McGees were finally discovering the thousand-year-old magical community nearby, and were avid for their first tour. At the moment, they were seated in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, finishing mugs of delicious butterbeer. Mr. McGee was twirling a sickle coin in his fingers, closely examining it. 

"I don't mind 'witch' at all, Mrs. McGee," answered Hermione. "There's a word for non-magic folk too, and if you and my parents don't mind being called Muggles, surely Charlotte and I shan't worry about being witches."

"Muggles, ay?" said Mr. McGee. "Has a warm, friendly sound to it, actually, like...well, a mug! Muggle!" He smiled proudly, almost smugly...or should it be smuggley? "So I'm a ... Muggle! And the wifie too, and the Noonans, and the Praethers down the road are... Muggles!" 

Hermione chuckled. "Well....almost. You might meet the Noonans in Hogsmeade; she's a weekend clerk at the book shop here. Mr. Noonan's a Muggle, but the Missus is a witch." 

He gaped. "I'll be dumped." Mrs. McGee also raised her eyebrows. "Katy Noonan a witch! Who'd ha' thought."

Hermione pushed her chair back. "We can stop and see her later, if you'd like. She's probably heard about the children by now. First, let's visit Hogwarts. We could walk there... but, if you don't mind, we'll take a boat ride on the lake from Hogsmeade Landing. It's the way we outlanders all see it for the first time."

Mr. McGee rose, leaving a few sickles as a tip. "And Hogwarts is a pretty little village like Hogsmeade, is it?"

"Oh, Mr. McGee, you can't imagine what a _marvelous_ sight you're about to see!"

* * *

Before the season was over, Mr. McGee had become quite the avid fan of Quidditch, never missing a match at Hogwarts. After all, he said, it was the most fun a Muggle could have in the valley! Once he found Jock Noonan was also a Muggle devotee of the sport, he had someone to share his enthusiasm with, and they had good chats comparing team performances whenever they met by the farm fence.

The new "Muggle mums" found wonderful strength and support in Katy Noonan and the ladies of Hogsmeade, who helped them adjust to a life where you carried one set of money for Bumpus and another for Hogsmeade, and friends and relatives should be told just enough and no more. Katy's only child, a bright and healthy three-year-old, showed no magic inclinations yet; as much as Katy still hoped for a surprise, she loved her wee one so much it didn't matter. 

On the second Sunday, they were invited to the Noonans for dinner, and were later serenaded by the musical portion of the Hogwarts special programme on Wizarding Wireless -- which, by the way, went flawlessly, much to Ginny's relief. Charlotte had her ear by the radio, listening intently, fascinated by her friends' music as much as their magic.

No, Hagrid did _not_ keep the erkling as a pet. A healthy erkling is neither playful nor loveable. After being caged and displayed to the students, it was sent out by rail to London, and handed over to German magical authorities for resettlement where four-footed game was plentiful.

* * *

The children agreed to only visit the school on some weekends; 10AM Sundays became the magical "learning times" for them. They easily found friends among the students and staff. Hagrid, as might be expected, adored them like a basket of newborn kittens. Dumbledore made a point of inviting the children and their parents to the Halloween feast, and Father Christmas left them many curious new things under the school tree. 

They learned a few simple charms, as magic children will; there would be time to learn the rest when they were a bit older. For now, they begged for broom rides. All of them were taken up by many willing volunteers. 

Little Charlotte McGee, though, had chosen her favourite broom-jockey right off. Her rescuer, the dark-haired, green-eyed object of her puppy-love, was a Quidditch player, a Seeker, and famous at that! 

Just what I needed, thought Harry; _a mini-Ginny!_

Still, he never objected to the smiling 6-year-old's pesky attention. With all he had on his mind that year -- including the destruction of his beloved Nimbus 2000 -- it was relaxing for Harry. He patiently took her for long broom rides, treating her like... well, like the kid sister he never had.

When there was a thick fog, and they could be safe from the eyes of nearby Muggle towns, students could fly higher. Harry would take little Charlotte through the overcast and break out into the dazzling yet very chilly sunlight. They would reach toward puffy cumulus castles, duck around frightening storm clouds, or soar and dive and turn like a strange slow-motion roller-coaster.

Sometimes all five children would be taken up on brooms at the Quidditch pitch, to fly in formation, shouting and giggling at each other, and tossing a ball back and forth at a safe flight level of a few feet, then up to put it through a Quidditch hoop. Ah, what fun!

For Charlotte, learning to fly came so naturally, and Harry couldn't deny her that experience. Occasionally, he would relax his control for a while, and encourage Charlotte to get the feel of steering. She became quite adept; at times, it really was hard to tell who was at the helm. 

On hot sunny days, they would pace Hedwig and other owls, turning slow circles in thermals over the lake. Dumbledore's handsome phoenix, Fawkes, would often join them for the treat.

Once Charlotte heard about the life cycle of the phoenix, she felt a certain attachment for Fawkes; after all, she had fallen from the sky to rise again.

* * *

Alex Mulholland was the first of the five children to come of age for Hogwarts. Once trained up, he offered to be Charlotte's co-pilot and mentor to relieve Harry, who was more and more preoccupied with his unusual Fifth Year, and the tragic memories of the Fourth. 

Not that Harry ever forgot her; with her parents' blessing, Charlotte received a certificate for Ollivanders at her 9th birthday, and an altogether too expensive broom at 10. 

At age 11, of course, came that wonderful letter.

In those few years, the magical world changed dramatically -- and Harry, Ron and Hermione sacrificed so much in the process -- but their other biographer tells it better than I ever could. 

* * *

On a faraway day when she was much older, Charlotte McGee Mulholland tucked the blanket around her sleeping newborn. She listened to a gentle rain beginning to fall; Alex and 2-year-old Alex Jr. would be home from the play park soon.

Open in her lap was the first folder of their "special" family album, the one that only magical folk were allowed to see: moving photos of their early flights... an invitation to10½-year-old Charlotte to a Hogwarts graduation... that cherished envelope, addressed in green ink to _Miss Charlotte McGee, the Littler Bedroom, McGee's Poultry Farm, Bumpus_... the Ravenclaw crest from her first dress robe.... the pressed corsage from Alex at her first formal dance...their increasingly romantic owl posts to each other, while Alex worked with the Ministry's archeology dig at Avalon... a penciled musical score, from the first concert she ever composed...

Often, she would tenderly recall when they were in the learning times, and childhood was truly magic. Harry, the boy who had saved her when she fell from the sky, had taken her back up into the blue -- because she asked if she might touch a cloud. She loved flying too much to remain afraid of it! 

Charlotte began softly humming the song that had formed in her mind over the years. She took a quill to write it down; sleepy little Harry Fawkes Mulholland might appreciate it some day.

**

Like a symphony, rising, rising!
Slowly ascending, beating a path to the heavens.
Like a symphony, rising, rising!
With passionate flight, the green-haven earth left behind,
Innocent dreams are returning of floating on nothing --
Of soaring an empty sky.

Like a phoenix, immolated, dying, dying,
From the ashes, recreated, rising!
Over hillocks, through the treetops, diving, diving!
Turning upward, looking skyward, gliding!
Now by a cloud, barely glancing and reaching, touching!
Off again to glide again, and dive again, then up again
and sailing the wind to climb endlessly, outwardly,
Upwardly, ardently, joyously, fearlessly!

Like a symphony, rising, rising!
Phoenix a-borning, new life from ashes ascending.
Rising,
To soar in an unending sky!

__Circling by a nimbus, see the flashing in the blackness...!
Sensing all the power in the crashing of the thunder...!

Racing from the darkness to the rainbow to the sunlight --
Sailing the wind to climb endlessly, outwardly,
Upwardly, ardently, joyously, fearlessly!

Like a symphony, rising, rising!
Passionate flying, green-haven earth left abandoned,
Rising,
Winging and soaring unending, fearlessly on high! 
**

Charlotte whispered to her little one. "Fly to the clouds, Harry. Dream dreams."


End file.
